


we all fall down

by LydiaOfNarnia



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Rescue Missions, getting someone out of a hole is really hard guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOfNarnia/pseuds/LydiaOfNarnia
Summary: George Luz falls into a hole and gets stuck.No, like an actual hole in the ground.Yeah. He can't believe it either.





	we all fall down

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

Joe glowers down at him, shadow falling over George’s face like the ghost of an impenetrable fortress. To anyone else trapped in this position, Joe Toye’s hulking figure would look intimidating. Instead – knowing Joe, and trusting him as much as he trusts himself – the sight of his comrades face only fills George with a sense of safety.

“If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” he says, offering Joe a grin. One hand reaches up, but Joe makes no move to stoop and take it.

“I don’t know how you do this shit,” he tells him. “I should just leave you here.”

“You can’t do that. You'd miss me too much.”

Joe smirks – a dry, humorless thing that belies the annoyance he won’t quite let himself show. George swallows, forcing his grin to stay on his face. He knows he’s in a lot of trouble, but it’s not like this is his fault. Whoever the guy was who decided he needed to dig his training foxhole eight feet deep is the real culprit here, not the poor bastard who managed to fall into it.

However, one look at Joe makes it clear he doesn’t feel the same way. “You know who’s really gonna be missing you? Sobel.”

“Oh god,” mutters George.

“Half of Easy is out here looking for you, and your ass is stuck in a hole in the ground. Why am I not surprised?”

“Look, look – does he know I’m gone yet?” George has been out here for over an hour – hell, it’s probably been hours. When Sobel finds him, he’s gonna be forced to run Currahee until he’s puking up his internal organs. Hell, he could get branded a deserter…

Joe sighs. “No,” he replies. “He hasn’t noticed you’re gone yet, and we’re gonna keep it that way. Get up here.”

He finally crouches down, close enough to the edge of the whole that George can see the glisten of sweat lining Joe’s face. He must have been out looking for him for awhile. A flash of guilt hits George, short and sharp, and he winces as he takes Joe’s hand.

“Okay, how we gonna do this – are you gonna lift me, or should I try climbing again, or –”

In a sudden move that George couldn’t have seen coming, Joe pulls. The muscles in his arms strain, and George lets out a startled noise as he feels his feet leave the ground. It’s almost enough, but not quite. After a few seconds Joe’s strength gives out under George’s full weight, and he drops back down to the foxhole floor.

George claps his hands as soon as they’re free from Joe’s grip. “Okay. We tried. Nice effort. You got any better ideas?”

Joe’s jaw is clenched in frustration, both at his own failure and the situation in general. George can empathize. “I dunno, Luz. What’ve you got?”

Joe is asking the guy who’s been stuck down a hole for hours. George has tried everything he could think of to get out of here. He tried climbing the walls, only for them to crumble beneath his grip. He called for help until his voice started going hoarse. His efforts to boost himself out with the few meager rocks at the bottom of the foxhole got him nowhere. He’s tried everything short of digging a tunnel out. Frankly, he’s out of ideas.

“Joe,” he sighs, “I really hope you brought some rope.”

* * *

 As it turns out, Joe does not have any rope; and he and George agree that going back to camp to look for some makes the risk of discovery too great. George is already at a low point in his life (literally). The last thing he needs is for their drill instructor’s bellowing to make it worse.

So that’s how George Luz winds up clinging to a tree branch for dear life while Joe Toye almost throws his back out trying to haul him up.

After the third time George lands on his ass, it becomes clear that this plan isn’t working. Not for lack of trying, but the branch is too flimsy, and he weighs too much. The branch is the largest one around, too. It’s safe to call this plan a bust.

“Alright,” he huffs, rubbing scraped-up hands against his filthy trousers. “New plan. What else have you got – Joe? What are you doing? _Joe?”_

 _Oh god,_ thinks George.

Joe has a six pack. This is not a new observation; they’ve showered together enough times that George has gotten an eyeful of more skin that this. He’s well-aware, and very appreciative, of the fact that you could scrub laundry on Joe’s bronze abs.

He’s not sure why he’s seeing those abs now, when they’re in the middle of the forest, but he’s not about to complain at this point.

“Let’s try this,” says Joe, pulling his shirt over his head.. “Why don’t you just tie this around your waist, and I’ll try to pull you up?”

George does not think Joe’s shirt is going to be long enough. He’s also definitely not about to tell Joe that. Telling Joe could lead to Joe putting the shirt back on, and that’s the last thing George wants. If he’s going to be stuck in a hole for the rest of his life, the least the universe could give him is a damn nice view.

So instead of protesting, he ties the shirt around his waist and lets Joe reach for it. As expected, it’s not even close to long enough.

Next Joe throws down his jacket, and George ties this to the end of the shirt. The jacket actually makes it to the top of the hole, and Joe seizes it with a victorious curl of his lips. This time, when he begins to be pulled up, George is prepared.

By brute strength, dumb luck, or a miracle, they George somehow makes it halfway to the top before he goes tumbling back down again. This time he takes the entire makeshift rope down with him as it slides out of Joe’s hands. George hits the ground first; Joe’s shirt and jacket land half a second after him. For a moment, all he can do is lie still.

“Luz?” Joe calls down. “You okay?”

George groans.

* * *

 “Pants. Take off your pants!”

“I _what now?”_

“Luz, just listen to me. Take off your pants and I’ll take off mine.”

Under any other circumstances, George would probably have a heart attack and die if Joe ever said that to him – assuming he wasn’t already half-naked and read to jump Joe already. With Joe far above him, however, the words don’t have their desired impact. In fact, that sounds like a terrible plan.

“No,” is all George says. “No more clothes ropes. I like my spine in one piece.”

Both pairs of pants stay right where they are.

* * *

 In the end, they go with the simplest option, which is just trying option one all over again.

“This isn’t gonna work,” George insists. Nevertheless, he lifts his arms to allow a dangerously-stooping Joe Toye to get a solid grip around him. “Joe, you’re gonna fall in. Or you’re gonna dislocate my damn arms.”

“You’ll be fine,” hisses Joe. He’s upside down, close enough to George’s ear that his breath warms the side of his neck. George feels a shiver run down his skin, and hopes he doesn’t shudder. Joe’s got his arms locked around him; there’s no doubt he’d be able to feel it.

He’d convinced there’s no way it’s going to work until the moment his feet actually leave the ground. Joe grunts, straining under his weight, but he bears it. George can feel the muscles in his savior’s arms straining. Joe grips him tighter and tighter, lifting him higher, until George’s head finally breaks over the top of the foxhole.

After that, it’s all a mad struggle to heave himself up before Joe’s strength can give out on him. Joe still has his arms locked around George’s toros by the time they both find their footing on solid ground. His chest is heaving; sweat lines both of his temples. He looks exhausted, but self-satisfaction glows out of every pore. At the sight of George standing in front of him, he breaks into a smile.

“Hey, Joe,” George says, feeling his own grin twitch across his face. “Nice lifting.”

“You’re heavier than you look,” Joe mutters. There’s no spite behind his words; his tone is warm enough to make George feel a little dizzy. They’re still so very close, and Joe’s arms are locked around George’s torso, hands resting on his shoulders. He feels safe in Joe’s grip. If they never pulled away, if they just stayed like this until they both turned to stone, George thinks he’d be okay with that.

Joe seems to be as reluctant to pull away. He remains still for a few seconds longer, just breathing as he gazes into George’s face. When he at last begins to pull away, he’s shocked by a pair of arms locking around his own torso, holding him tight.

“Well, I didn’t say you could stop hugging me, did I?” George mutters, smirking up into Joe’s surprised face.

“Luz, we’ve gotta get back,” Joe says. They both know how sensible his words are, but he sounds unconvinced himself. George exhales, half a laugh and half a sigh.

“I know,” he replies. “I wanna revel in my own mortality. Let’s just take a minute.”

George gives him a tiny squeeze, and Joe’s shoulders slump. Neither one of them makes another move to pull away.


End file.
